How to Talk About Macklemore's 'White Privilege' Song

It's really easy to make fun of Macklemore, for lots of reasons. Musically, he has perfected a certain infectious kind of catchy dad-rap, with flashes of impressive verbal dexterity weighed down by simplistic lyricism that is often cloying in its wokeness. "One Love" made gay marriage okay, the joke goes. There's also his persona: utterly suburban, Pacific Northwest white-boy chic, gentle and friendly to the point where moms like him even though he curses. He is, in short, a try-hard, but he's put in the work, laboring in obscurity for a decade before becoming the stunning indie success he is today.

And on Thursday night he put out a song called "White Privilege II," which, depending on your perspective, is arguably the most Macklemore move Macklemore has ever pulled. It's a nine-minute-and-forty-six-second odyssey into liberal white guilt in the age of Black Lives Matter that drops as many soundbites as it does bars. Sonically, as far as rap tracks—even Macklemore rap tracks—go, it suffers from terrible bloat and stilted rhythmic shifts barely held together by Ryan Lewis' production. But it's still worth talking about.

Macklemore tops charts by parroting sentiments oppressed minorities have been screaming. "White Privilege II" finds him grappling with this, and that's both its strength and its shortcoming.

Just like it's easy to make fun of Macklemore, it's easy to dismiss "White Privilege II" for just being more of Macklemore's saccharine Conscious Rap, the latest stunt from the guy who had a small platoon of gay couples married on stage while he performed his feel-good Kumbaya anthem "One Love." On the other hand, it's worth remembering that Macklemore is also capable of being quite thoughtful and articulate when it comes to issues of race and hip-hop and privilege when given the opportunity. What makes his musical takes on these subjects grating is his populist approach to social issues; he pares down nuanced arguments and finds chart-topping success parroting sentiments that oppressed minorities have been silently screaming.

"White Privilege II" is largely about Macklemore being cognizant of and grappling with all this, and that's both its strength and its shortcoming. It goes through several distinct movements—first, there's Macklemore's alienation at a protest, as he adds his voice to chants imbued with meaning he can't really understand. Then, he addresses the adoring moms of his fanbase who love him but not rap; the black culture in which he found his success; how his success is a direct result of white privilege and supremacy; contemplation of how he can use his influence to do anything to fight for equality as a comfortable, successful white rapper. (Then there's a really lovely verse from Jamilia Woods that should just be its own song.)

As you can probably surmise, "White Privilege II" is entirely centered on Macklemore's experience—his internal struggle with grafting his identity to a culture he wasn't born into and with the uncomfortable luxury of enjoying success within that culture without suffering any of the drawbacks. Which is why to some, justifiably, it'll be insufferable. Yes, Macklemore should feel uncomfortable, and he's right to acknowledge it—but saying holy shit, white supremacy is real and I have benefited from it and racism is real and our whole country has benefited from it and isn't it all awful doesn't help anyone as much as it helps Macklemore look like a really good guy.

And yet.

Macklemore has incredible reach. Radio stations that barely want anything to do with rap play him. People who only know hip-hop from what breaks through the Top 40 charts know Macklemore. No other artists in any other genre are concerned with what's going on in this country right now with race. People who might listen to Macklemore—the corny dads, the moms, the kids, the people who just really like pop music—might not necessarily be reading the blogs chronicling all this. They might not see all the #woke tweets. They might be otherwise removed from the conversation in a way that simply leaves them isolated from any honest dialogue. These are people who might really need someone chanting, as Macklemore does, about white supremacy and how it bubbles underneath huge parts of our culture.

That's a weird thought, I know—but chances are, if you're reading this right now, Macklemore's "White Privilege II" isn't really for you. It's definitely not for me. That's fine. Let the other people who need it have it. Be there for them when they hopefully have their damn, shit is fucked up moment.

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